


Girls To The Front

by Anonymous



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Age Difference, Ageism, Always a girl!Frank, BDSM, Ball Gag, Bandom kink meme, Blonde wig photoshoot!Frank, Consenting Adults, Dildos, Dom/sub, F/F, Femslash February, Impact Play, Live Music, Revenge!Frank, Spanking, Strap-Ons, bratty!Frank, dominant!Frank, frankcest, pink studded belt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-28
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-12 06:35:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29755575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Frank underestimates the woman she meets in the pit.Title from ... read the fic, it couldn’t be anything else, could it?
Relationships: Frank Iero/Frank Iero
Comments: 2
Kudos: 7
Collections: Bandom Kink Meme





	Girls To The Front

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [bandomkinkmeme](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/bandomkinkmeme) collection. 



> **Prompt:**
> 
> Frankcest but they’re both girls send prompt

Frank didn’t see the elbow that knocked her to the ground. She just felt the surge of bodies all around her, energised by the wash of noise, and then the crack to her cheek that made her drop. Heavy as a rock. 

When she came to, flat on her back, a shock of sweaty blonde curls leaned over her. As the spinning room slowed, she could make out blue eyeshadow and false eyelashes. One is just beginning to come loose. And there is a broad grin that pushes up into wrinkles around sparkling hazel-green eyes under perfectly shaped brows. 

“You ok, kid?” a cigarette-dry voice drawled. 

“Yeah. No thanks to you, fucking old timer. Why don’t you piss off to the back with all the other assholes that are too old for the pit? And don’t call me kid. I am twenty two.” 

Frank pushes herself up onto her feet, bounces on her toes a little and peers over to where the band are still thrashing out a breakneck rhythm. 

The blonde woman laughs, deep and rich. 

“I don’t need to prove anything to you. Maybe you need to work on paying attention to your surroundings.” 

“Whatever grandma!” Frank calls and sprints back into the crush. 

Franki smiles and follows. 

*****

By the time the band come back on the stage for the encore, Frank has managed to get back to the front of the pit, just to the left of the stage near the guitarist where she likes to be. The roar of the crowd and the adrenaline buzz as they start playing her favourite song lift her onto her toes. She is breathless already, shouting. But what air there is in her lungs is squeezed harder when someone pushes from behind, hard. Frank pushes back with her hips, making space, but the asshole behind pushes harder. So she wriggles, tilts her hips slightly and shoves back even harder still. 

But she is suddenly pushing back into thin air. She is overbalanced, pitching backwards with the surge of bodies, feet sliding from under her. Falling. 

A pair of firm hands grab her shoulders. Stop her slide onto the beer-slippery floor. And strong arms set her back on her feet. 

“Cheers man,” she shouts and turns her head to see … blonde curls and a wide smirk. 

“Go careful, kid,” Franki mouths. 

“I told you I am not a fucking kid,” Frank yells, indignant. 

“Whatever,” Franki shrugs and turns back into the heaving mass of bodies. 

After that, wherever Frank goes in the crowd the blonde woman is there. She is by the barrier drinking water from plastic cups brought by security when Frank manages to squeeze into a space. When the pit opens up she is running on the edge. When Frank surfs the crowd she is already on the stage preparing to leap back into the mass of bodies. She is everywhere and every time Frank catches her eye, her heart pounds even faster. 

Frank huffs. She hates people who think they’re better than her and old people who think they’re better than her are even worse. So she shoves her way through the crowd, follows the blonde curls. 

Frank grabs Franki by the arm and drags her out of the crush. She doesn’t stop to think, to say anything. She just reaches for her cheeks, tilts her head to exactly where she wants her and kisses her. Just dry lips at first, firm and warm. Then Frank slides her tongue into Franki’s mouth and explores. Franki doesn’t move, doesn’t stop Frank, just doesn’t react. Lets Frank move her where she wants her to be. Complies but doesn’t participate. 

Then Frank takes a step back and looks at Franki. Waiting. 

Franki just shrugs. 

“Well isn’t that nice. You kiss good for a kid.” 

“Seriously. You still think I’m a kid,” Frank spits angrily. 

Franki smiles. 

“Does it matter whether I do or not? I am nothing to you. Don’t know why you think you got something to prove.” Franki is curious though, not just because the little punk girl is annoyingly confident, but because there’s something about her that she recognises. 

Frank is getting pissed now. This old lady must be late thirties, maybe, and nothing she can do shakes her. She just so fucking arrogant or something. And she has no idea why it matters. 

“What makes you think you’re so special?” Frank spits. 

Franki smiles broadly again. 

“Oh sweetie. I really don’t think I’m anything. But it’s funny. Because it looks from here like you think I am.” 

“I really don’t,” Frank crosses her arms sulkily, shakes the curl of black hair out of her eye. 

“Why are you still here if you think so little of me? Why are you following me? Why do you care? Why are you trying to get me to push back?” 

“I don’t care,” Frank snarls. 

“If you don’t care, why did you kiss me?” Franki asks, low. 

“I … I … uh.” Frank stammers to a halt. 

“Maybe we should try again. See if you know this time?” Franki’s shiteating grin glows in the gloom of the club. 

Frank says nothing. 

“Oh, I see. It’s ok for you to do that to taunt me but you only kissed me to freak out the old lady. Well that’s nice. You can keep that attitude.” 

Franki walks away. Disappears into the crowd for the last song. 

And Frank is just confused. She scratches behind her ear where her scorpion tattoo is still healing and wonders when baiting the arrogant old woman had turned into something that made a familiar low ache deep in her belly. 

*****

The band leaves the stage and the house lights come up. The crowd moves as one to leave, to meet friends, to collect coats and to buy merch. And a few decide to wait to catch a glimpse of the band. Frank pulls on her thin denim jacket and moves swiftly through the crowd, her brow set in a frown. She clutches her cigarettes and lighter in her pocket. She shivers as the cold November night air hits her. 

Frank huddles on the kerb, trying not to think about how cold her walk home to her apartment is going to be. She is shaking as she sparks her lighter, cups a hand around the flame and pulls in a slow breath. She flickers her eyelashes as she slowly exhales. 

“If you think you’re cold, try wearing fishnets,” a sardonic voice drawls beside her. 

“Funny,” Frank remarks. 

“Yes, I am,” Franki retorts. 

“You’re full of shit too.” 

“People say that. I think it’s more that I don’t take any. You gotta smoke I could steal?” 

“Sure,” Frank offers the pack. Franki sparks up then offers her hand. 

“What’s your name, kid?” 

Frank stares. “I might tell you if you stop calling me kid.” 

“And I might tell you mine if you stop treating me like a fossil.”

Frank laughs and this time Franki joins her. 

“Both as bad as each other, I guess,” Frank admits lightly. 

“Not sure that’s true, k … uh … whatever your name is.” 

Frank reaches out a tattooed hand and this time Franki takes it. 

“Frank.” “Franki.” They say together, then laugh the same high pitched giggle. 

“Huh, that’s some coincidence,” Franki says, examining Frank’s face carefully. 

“Yeah. What are you? My long lost aunt or something?” 

“I doubt it. I’m from out of town. Just here for the show. I don’t have any family here. Just … there’s something familiar about you.” Franki shakes her head. Then she gets up. “Whatever. See you around, Frank.” 

And she walks away. Frank is left open mouthed. Thinking how dare this old lady fuck with her then just walk away. So Frank runs after her. Worn sneakers slapping on the sidewalk in the quiet, neon lit street chasing the quick pace of Franki’s boots. 

“Hey!” 

Franki just keeps walking. 

“Franki! Wait.” 

“Why?” Franki doesn’t stop walking or turn around but her voice echoes back to Frank as clear as anything. 

Frank can’t answer that. She just wants - no, needs - Franki to stop. To talk to her. To see her. 

“Please Franki!” 

“Jeeze Frank.” Franki stops, turns and glares at Frank. “You really not one for taking a hint? Go home. I’m going to my hotel for a beer and then a sleep. You got nowhere to go?” 

“Can I come with you?” 

“What? To bed? I don’t think so.”

“No. For a beer. I just … I want to talk to you.” 

Franki sighs and shoves her hands into her bleached blonde curls. 

“You really can’t take a hint, can you, kid? And before you argue, honestly, you really are behaving like one. You are a total brat. It doesn’t matter how old you are. You insult me, you bait me, you force yourself on me and somehow this is my fault. I did nothing but help you out and apparently it’s me that owes you. All I can see is someone who needs to learn some manners.” 

“Ok.”

“What?” 

“I can learn.” 

Franki sighs. She wonders, not for the first time this evening, what the fuck she has got herself involved in. 

“I can learn. Teach me,” Frank breathes. 

And in Frank’s eyes, under their hooded lids and perfect brows, Franki can see it all. Desire, defiance and a lust to be corrected. So this is what this is. 

“Do you really mean that? Are you sure you are prepared? Because I am tough and this will hurt.” 

Frank smiles a somewhat wobbly smile. 

“Yeah. That’s what I was hoping.”

*****

“Before we start, these are the rules. You are here because you choose to be. You will do as you are told. Don’t like anything, there’s the door. I don’t like anything and I tell you to leave, you go. No argument. You have a safeword?” Franki asks sharply, arms folded, eyes stern. 

Frank nods. “Gibson.” 

“Good. You use it, we stop, you leave. End of story. If I tie you it won’t be with anything you can’t get out of, if you choose to. I am not interested in anything more complicated. And when we’re done, you leave. I don’t do cuddles. You got that?”

“Yeah Franki.”

“You got any hard limits?”

“Yeah. No blindfold and no cutting, burns or blood. I like pain, I can take a lot.” 

“You mind bruises or bites?” 

“No. Just not anywhere they can be seen outside clothes.” 

“Good. You want sex, penetration?” 

“Fine by me,” Frank shrugs. 

“Right. Anything else I need to know before we start?” 

Frank shakes her head, eager. 

“Good. Go to the bathroom. Take a shower. Wash properly. I don’t touch dirty girls.” 

“Hey! I’m not dirty,” Frank sulks. 

“Answering back already? You have a fucking mouth on you that needs beating out of you. And you are dirty. You were sweating in the pit all night. You are having a shower or I will not touch you.” Franki’s eyes are dark, piercing. 

“I … uh,” Frank stammers. And her skin starts to tingle everso slightly with anticipation. 

“Move bitch.” 

Frank skitters into the bathroom, breathless. She uses the toilet and while she is showering she is aware of Franki coming in then leaving. She briefly wonders why but is too excited by what is to come to think for long. 

She reaches blindly around the curtain for a towel and finds there are none. She pulls the shower curtain back and finds that all her clothes are gone. 

“Huh.” 

She nervously opens the door and peers out. 

“Are there any ,,,?” Frank inquires. 

“Come here and kneel. Hands behind your back.” Franki points to the middle of the carpeted floor. 

Frank complies. She looks up at Franki wondering where this is going. Franki has taken off her jacket and boots. Frank can see under the shortsleeved, frumpy black and white flowery dress and fishnets that she is wearing that she is absolutely covered in tattoos. Frank wonders if she will get a chance to lick them. 

Frank shivers slightly, water is dripping from her long lock of black hair onto her breasts, making her nipples harden, and the warmth of the shower is beginning to cool on her skin. 

“I’m cold,” she complains. 

Franki smiles. 

“Yes. Because rude girls with no manners don’t deserve clothes. You’ll have to earn them. First rule. Don’t speak until you are spoken to.” 

“Ok.”

Frank gasps as Franki smacks her across the cheek, hard. She swallows thickly. 

“You understand?” 

Frank nods as a tear squeezes from her eye. 

“Good. Now on your hands and knees. I want to check you have done a good job of cleaning yourself before we start.”

Once in position, Frank can hear rustling behind her. 

“Knees further apart,” Franki orders sharply and Frank shifts. She feels exposed, wet and naked. 

Then there are probing hands gripping her buttocks, opening her, prodding, examining. Latex covered fingers pull at her labia, sweep across her clit and are inserted into her vagina and pull apart, leaving her open and vulnerable. There is no lube, just firm, impersonal touch. She feels a sliver of cold in her throat like she is a smear in a laboratory, a specimen under a microscope. The fingers move to her anus and she feels them probe carefully at her entrance. She groans quietly. 

They must be satisfied as they stop their examination and she hears the snap of the gloves being removed and the slop of them landing in the bin. 

“Good. Kneel and open your mouth.” 

Frank obediently moves. She looks up at Franki, wide eyed and hopeful. Franki looks stern but there is a playful glint in her eye that Frank hopes means she is going to get what she needs. 

“I want to see if you can behave on your own. But I also want you to be quiet for this. So …” Franki produces a ball gag from behind her back. Frank’s eyes goggle a little. She has not seen one as big before. 

Franki inserts the ball into Frank’s mouth and buckles the straps at the back of her head. Franki probes her fingers into the black lock of hair that curls over Frank’s eyes and tugs her head up. Frank blinks at Franki dumbly, lips stretched around the hard black plastic ball, jaw already aching a little. Her breath heaves and a tiny dribble of saliva drips from the corner of her mouth. 

“Pretty,” Franki smiles. “Of course, you can’t say your safeword with that in so if you want to stop tap three times with your left index finger. Ok?” 

Frank nods slowly. 

“Show me,” Franki demands and Frank taps her finger audibly three times. “Good.” 

Frank is already beginning to zone out. Kneeling, being given orders, the vulnerability of being naked and the gag are all making her senses swim, her mind soft and slow. She is just settling into the sensation when she realises Franki was talking and she missed what she said. 

“Oh dear. I think I have let you off too many punishments already. How very disappointing. Go and kneel by the sofa.” 

Frank wobbles a little as she gets to her feet. Franki sits on the sofa and waits. 

“Here.” 

Frank lies across her lap, buttocks in the air. Her senses are suddenly sharp, acute to what her gut hopes will happen next, the anticipation delicious. 

“This is a bit of a cliche for how we treat naughty children. I wouldn’t usually do this but I think it’s what you want,” Franki laughs and the sound is warm. 

Frank wriggles happily. 

“Oh yeah. You want this, don’t you? Naughty girl. You ready for ten?”

Frank nods. Franki slaps the meat of her buttock once, hard, and Frank inhales sharply. She bites down on the ball. The first blow is followed by four more in quick succession and Frank fights the urge to tense against the anticipation of the next smack. 

Franki scratches her short, strong nails through the sting she has left on Frank’s cheek. The rawness makes Frank’s eyes water. 

Five more, fast and harsh on the other cheek followed by firm scratching, leave Frank gasping and drooling around the ball. 

Frank waits for the next ten. Then she realises Franki has been testing her. Without warning, smacks rain down on both cheeks, unpredictable. Hard, sharp, some just gentle brushes against her rapidly heating skin, some fierce stinging blows, all impossible to anticipate or prepare for. Leaving Frank a juddering, dribbling mess. 

Then it stops. And Frank’s breath is heaving, her cunt is wet and her buttocks are quivering like a jelly mould. 

“Good girl,” Franki says, her voice a little breathless. “On your knees.” 

Frank wriggles off her lap and kneels beside her. She takes a risk and rests her head on Franki’s warm knee. She is rewarded with a hand stroking her tear streaked face, as her head reels. 

“Good girl,” Franki says warmly and Frank sighs happily, relishing the praise for a moment. 

Franki digs her fingers into Frank’s hair and lifts her head. She looks intently for a moment then her hands move to the back of Frank’s head and quickly release her from the ball gag. Frank sighs, wipes the drool from her face with the back of her hand and eases out her stiff jaw with a crack. 

Franki stands. Frank watches her undress with interest. She can see her reflection in the full length hotel mirror. 

Franki pulls off the rumpled flowery dress over her head and rolls off the fishnets, revealing a body almost completely covered in tattoos. There are words, numbers, animals, birds, logos, chains, webs, more than Frank can comprehend. Franki has pulled her long curly blonde hair into a ponytail so she can see there is even a black design on her skull under her hair at the back. The designs sneaking under her black sports bra and plain panties do not suggest that there is any more than tiny fragments of space spare on her body. 

Frank is honestly bewitched. 

“C’mere,” Franki beckons for her to come stand with her at the mirror. 

When they stand side by side at the mirror, they are both struck by their similarities. They are the same height, their eyes are the same rich green-brown accentuated by perfect arched brows. Their lips are thin but easily quirk into devastatingly warm and cheeky smiles. And though Franki has more softness at her hips, rolls and creases at her belly and weight to her breasts, they are essentially the same slim, boyish shape. 

But there are differences too. Obvious things like Frank having way fewer tattoos, the chopped sides to her hair and black fauxhawk contrasting with Franki’s mess of blonde curls. Franki has peeled off the false eyelashes but a smudge of the blue eyeshadow remains on her lids while Frank’s face is bare and slightly tanned. 

Franki smiles, sweet. “Look at us. The brat and the fossil.” 

“Yeah, yeah, grandma. Look this is sweet and everything but I just want you to hit me and fuck me, y’know?” And just like that, Brat Frank has got the night back on course again. 

“For that, you’ll be lucky if I fuck you at all. Get on your knees, brat.” 

Franki strides across to the bed and pokes through Frank’s clothes. She gives a little chuckle of triumph and brandishes Frank’s pink studded belt. 

“This was what I noticed about you first, Frank. A young soft thing playing at being hard. Which way do you want it? Leather side or studs?” 

“Leather, Franki,” Frank breathes. 

“Ha!” Franki snorts. “Brats don’t get to choose.” And she shoves Frank hard on the back so she topples onto her hands and knees. Franki plants a hand firmly in the small of her back and, gripping the belt firmly, swings it out and back onto Frank’s thighs with a thwack. Frank groans, loud, and Franki smirks. 

“Oh yeah. You know what you’re good for don’t you? Mouthy little bitch girl, think you know everything.” 

Franki leans in a little to examine Frank’s thighs and puffs cool air gently onto tender skin. She is pleased to see a broad pink stripe bloom across Frank’s olive skin. She is using the leather side, not because Frank asked but because she knows Frank will last longer if she doesn’t damage her already sweetly reddened skin. Franki flings out and draws back the belt again with a snap and Frank grunts. She drops her head and pants harshly, in anticipation of the stinging slap of leather. Franki brings the belt down on Frank’s flesh again and again, on her lower back, her buttocks and her thighs and they steadily grow pinker and rawer. Franki huffs with the effort, her cheeks pink and hair darkened with sweat, and she grins secretly at Frank’s reaction. 

Frank grunts and squeaks and moans but she never wants Franki to stop. Her head feels spacey and soft in contrast with the stinging pain outside. There is a damp throb between her thighs that is getting more insistent. After each thwack of the belt Frank shakes her hips hoping to remind Franki of the promised fuck that hasn’t yet materialised. 

Frank is so full of the head rush from the belt that she misses the snap and squirt of the lube until Franki’s fingers swipe slowly from her clit to her asshole. Frank hisses - the sensation is colder than usual and makes the sensitive skin ring. 

Then Franki’s fingers are back, warm and probing under the tingling cold. They slide between her folds where Frank has become wet and slick herself. An index finger circles her clit then rubs across, making lights spark behind Frank’s eyelids and a moan escape her wet lips. Her hips jerk involuntarily, chasing Franki’s fingers, and Franki chuckles. 

“Roll over,” she breathes and Frank complies, like a cat submitting to its owner. Now Franki can prop herself on her elbow and watch the pretty moans and gasps coming from Frank’s pink, open mouth, her tits shifting and the way her stomach tenses and twitches as Franki slides and twists her fingers through her moist labia. 

Then Franki digs her middle finger in deep and Frank’s back tenses, arches. Her cunt is so soft and pliant and open that a second and third finger slide in easily alongside. Frank opens her legs and pushes herself rhythmically onto Franki’s hand, moaning at how good and full she feels. Franki slides her thumb across Frank’s clit and flicks at the nub. The fullness, slide and stretch of fingers inside her and twang across her guts from Franki’s clever fingers stimulating her clit make her gasp for air and her head wash with white noise. Frank judders and growls. Franki keeps a frustratingly slow and steady pace, ignoring Frank’s pleas of “faster” that slide from her wrecked throat. Frank tries to grind her hips onto Franki’s hand quicker but she withdraws her fingers a little and sweeps shallowly at Frank’s clit until Frank gives up with a frustrated hiss and lets Franki set the pace. 

Frank is rewarded by the slowest, luscious creep of tension from her feet and belly that signals the imminent crashing wave of the kind of overwhelming orgasm she has rarely experienced. The intense tingle and tension make her stretch out her arms, lifting her shoulders, her nipples hard, dark peaks on her soft, heaving chest, while her hands grasp and slap helplessly at the air. And just as Frank is approaching her peak, Franki pops her slick little finger into Frank’s soft asshole and she screams out her release, deep from her belly. 

Franki slows her hand and stills, leaving her fingers inside Frank at first. Frank has tightened around her and Franki enjoys the sensation of the aftershocks when her overstimulated muscles periodically spasm around her hand and make the whole of Frank’s body jerk. And, because she is an asshole, Franki licks at Frank’s nearest nipple which makes her crumple in the middle and swear. Frank bats Franki’s hand away in frustration. 

“Sssh kid. I got you,” Franki’s deep voice mutters. “Get up.” 

They both pull themselves to their feet. Frank slowly, still shaking a little from her orgasm, and stands, head up, shoulders back, fixing Franki right in the eye. Level and defiant, as a mixture of her come and lube drips slowly on the hotel carpet. She decides that, much as her orgasm was mind blowing, she has had enough of Franki running the show and wonders what would happen if she pushed back, hard. Franki’s tattoos are too mouth-wateringly tempting, her tits deliciously rounded and her thighs strong and wiry. Frank wants a taste of being in charge here and she wonders if Franki’s dominant superiority might not be enough to stop her. 

Franki quirks an eyebrow. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“I want to mix this up. All this power play is fine,” Frank says, her voice more level than she can believe considering how fast her heart is beating. “But I want to fuck. I could let you fuck me more but I think I want to fuck you.” 

Franki’s stare is like ice. Like she could break her into pieces with the way her cold rage slices into Frank. The hazel of her eyes has darkened to pools of black, a frown creasing the paleness of her forehead. Frank is suddenly a little concerned that she could easily snap and lose the controlled power that has driven … whatever this is so far. But then a slow, calculating smile eases across her cheeks. 

Franki reaches out a small, decorated hand, so delicate it is almost a paw. Frank takes it and Franki pulls her into a warm hug, their soft curves pressed together. And this time it is Franki that starts the kiss. She kisses like she smacks, teasing and powerful all at once, and Frank is a little overwhelmed. She didn’t expect tenderness amongst the pain, it’s like Franki has too many notes she can play, more depth and range than Frank is prepared for. The kiss must be good because Frank’s feet are getting warm and tingly like a blush spreading up her legs all over again, even though she has literally just come hard. 

Franki pulls away. She goes to her suitcase and rummages around. When she turns back she has a long black silicone dildo in one hand and a black leather harness hanging from the other. She grins wickedly. 

“You’d better be good, girl. I don’t let just anyone fuck me.” 

Frank takes the dildo and harness with a giggle. “I’m not just anyone grandma! Get on the bed, on your back, knees up.” 

Franki wonders if she should punish Frank for her cheek but she is also amused and curious whether the kid’s self-confidence is misplaced or not. So she moves Frank’s clothes off the bed and onto a chair and takes off her underwear. 

She props herself up on her elbows and observes Frank keenly as she confidently straps herself into the harness. The sight of the black leather biting into the raw pink flesh of her ass and thighs makes Franki sigh and bite her lip. Frank has a kind of rough, angry beauty that she hasn’t allowed herself to appreciate because they have been so locked into this power struggle. The change of roles has allowed Franki to actually see Frank. And she wonders if this has all been an elaborate dance because she is scared of letting someone so much younger see that she is scared, to let someone as young as Frank close in case she tears her fragile heart apart. Franki could brush that off if Frank asked or even considered there was something vulnerable beneath Franki’s tough exterior. Because right now there is a tiny blooming hope in her head that there could be something more than this. And that is terrifying. 

Frank rolls her hips and smiles like a well-fed cat as her black cock bobs and bounces. Franki grins. 

“Lie back, Franki. Close your eyes. I want you to feel this.” 

Franki complies, a little more breathless than she would care to admit. Then Frank’s warm, slightly sweaty hands are on her thighs and she stops thinking. Because, like she is in the pit, Frank is both a delight and a menace. She kisses, licks, strokes and kneads Franki’s thighs but when she bites it’s quick and sharp, not slow and wet. Franki jerks and mutters a complaint but Frank’s firm hands keep her in place. Then Frank slides up her thigh and noses into her soft, damp pussy. She tangles her fingers in the soft hairs, threaded with grey, and cups her hand around the warmth and wet and just holds Franki for a moment. 

The stillness doesn’t last long. 

Frank’s fingers probe and part Franki’s folds and open up the entrance to her vagina to the cool air. She rubs her nose against the warm, moist skin then eases upwards and the flat of her wet tongue follows. As Franki moans, Frank laps at her opening then darts into her, tongue pointed. Franki tilts her hips, pushes Frank’s tongue deeper, then out. The sensation of being fucked on Frank’s tongue, gentle but intense, makes Franki’s thighs shake with the control. And having Frank’s face pressed to her pussy, wet from her, warm breath billowing across the growing heat, just makes her squirm happily. And the gentle friction of Frank’s nose on her clit, begins to remind her how good this could be. 

And then Frank pulls back and Franki is left chasing the lost heat with her hips. She is stilled by a firm hand on her thigh and a “ssssh”. 

She hears lube squeezed and smeared with a squelch and she smiles. 

Then Frank moves her hips between Franki’s legs and her cock nudges bluntly at Franki’s pussy. She wraps her legs around Frank’s soft butt and pulls her in. Frank resists a little, feeling to line up her cock. Then she pushes and Franki groans as the cool length slides in, opens her, fills her. It’s thick, more than she is used to. Usually she uses something smaller on herself. She keeps the big black dildo for people she fucks, thinks of it as her cock. But she feels somehow different with Frank. Wanted to feel if her ego matched her talent. And the way her black sweaty lock of hair is falling in strands across her shiny face, her dark eyes fixed in concentration, pink mouth dumbly open, Franki thinks she made the right choice. She feels powerless, pinned in place by a reckless force of nature. 

Frank begins to fuck into her, slow and shallow at first. When Franki digs a heel sharply into her ass, Frank gets the message and goes deeper, bottoms out every time. Franki gasps and whines with every thrust of Frank’s hips. Then Frank changes her angle a little and Franki squeaks, panting out “fuck fuck fuck ah ah there please there.” Frank dips her head and Franki grabs the shorn hair at the back of her head and tugs hard, pulling her face close against her tit. Frank bites down hard at Franki’s hard nipple and she growls and tenses. Warmth floods over Frank’s thighs and crotch as she feels the arching tension of Franki’s orgasm bubbling around her. She can smell it in her skin and feel it in her trembling feet and fluttering, gripping hands. 

She grins at the mess she has made of Franki. 

Gradually she pulls the thick cock out of Franki and smiles gently at how vulnerable and soft she looks. She undoes the buckles on the harness and it falls with a clatter to the floor. 

“Now get the fuck out.” Franki orders, sleepily. 

Frank hops off the bed, gathers up her clothes, pulls them on as fast as she can. Tugs on her sneakers, leaving the laces slapping at her legs and skitters out of the door. She is grinning wide, heart beating audibly against her ribs, cheeks flushed. She pulls the pink belt through the belt loops in her jeans and leaves it clanking open. She hopes not to see anyone in the stairwell because they will know exactly what she has been doing, leaving a cheap hotel, semi-dressed in the dawn light, with new bites on her neck, rumpled hair and stinking of sex. 

But she doesn’t care. Because her asscheeks are singing, her underwear is soaked wet and stinking of lube, she has a new number in her phone and the sun is already coming up. 

**Author's Note:**

> You would never guess I miss live music, would you?
> 
> Thanks for the inspiring prompt. I hope you enjoyed this, anonymous prompter.


End file.
